Page 10 of Reaper
“It might be pretty important, given that men make up less than a third of most covens, and less than a quarter of the ones in Charlotte,” I said.“Unfortunately, all the bodies were claimed by relatives or their covens, and they were all cremated, so there are no bodies to examine.”
“But we can examine the autopsy reports and photographs,” Luke said.“Assuming the coroner will share them with us.”
“I think Doctor Yang will give Becks about anything she asks him for,” I said with a grin and a tip of my glass in her direction.
“What?”she asked.By the look on her face, she really had no idea what I was talking about.
“Oh, babe, did you really not notice that he was into you?He was completely professional whenever I asked him a question, but whenever you so much as looked at him, he turned into a nervous high school freshman talking to the head cheerleader.It was pretty adorable, actually.”
Becks blushed, which made her dark skin seem to glow from the inside, and she took a long swig of her Coke to hide her cheeks.“I’ll put in a call tomorrow morning.But tonight, we’ve got a book club to crash.”
“A what?”I asked, looking from Becks to Luke in confusion.
Luke just shrugged his ignorance, but Becks gave me a vicious grin.“The Arboretum pack meets at Barnes & Noble every Wednesday night, remember?Come on, honey, I hear they’re talking aboutFourth Wingtonight, and I can’t wait to talk about all the spicy scenes.”
Someday I will learn that I embarrass Deputy Director Flynn at my peril.
* * *
The bookstore was big, with a coffee shop built into it, a half dozen tables scattered around a cute tiled area in front of the big windows so all the passersby could see what a lovely intellectual time all the book lovers and coffee snobs were having.I was instantly uncomfortable, flashing back to a childhood where my father couldn’t walk past the front window of a bookshop without some overzealous clerk following him down the sidewalk with copies ofDraculain hand for him to autograph.No matter that he hadn’t written the thing, just being one of the famous characters was plenty.After his adventures with my uncle, Father wanted to be a private man, but celebrity pursued him all across London.He finally got his peace in 1914, when he passed away in his sleep.The doctors called it consumption, but I knew that he was never sick a day in his life after his “encounter” with Luke’s “wives.”No, he died of a broken heart, following my mother in death less than two years after she passed.I was young then, but I’ve never liked bookstores.
I don’t often like weres, either.They’re fast, strong, and heal with completely unfair speed.They’re tough to put down without silver, and that tends to be a more permanent solution than I wanted tonight.But I had silver-tipped hollow points in the Glock under my hoodie, just in case things went exceptionally sideways.
I sat in an overstuffed chair and picked up a book calledI Was a Teenage Slasherfrom a side table.I missed the slasher movie craze of the 1980s, but the book had a unique narrative voice, and I found myself drawn in despite being unfamiliar with many of the references.I sat there engrossed for the better part of an hour before I noticed the tables were filling up.Everyone had the look of a shifter of some type—all healthy, with lithe movements and the loose-limbed grace of people who are somehow always ready to move at an instant’s notice.
I see them,Becks said.
Can you tell who’s the leader?
Not yet.There are two or three people circulating between tables, but I can’t pick up on any body language that tells me anyone in particular is in charge.Wait, scratch that.I think I found her.
And just like that, I’d found her, too.Because standing in front of me, looking down with a warm smile, was a gorgeous redhead who looked to be in her early thirties.She was tall, extremely fit, and had a broad smile stretched across her face.“Are you here for the meetup?”she asked, her voice bright.
I straightened in my seat and leaned forward.“Yeah,” I said.“I’m James.James Card.Is there like a sign in sheet or anything I’m supposed to do?I don’t have to wear one of those ‘Hello My Name Is’ stickers or anything, do I?”
She laughed, and a couple at the nearest table looked over, smiling.Apparently my hostess’s exuberance was well-known.She stuck out a hand.“I’m Rachelle.And no, there aren’t any nametags, or even any real agenda.We just like to get together, meet new people, and chat.Coffee?”
I nodded and followed her over to the coffee bar where she ordered some kind of confection that looked more like a dessert than a coffee.I ordered a large caramel coffee with whipped cream and followed her to a table.We sat down and she leaned forward, making way more eye contact than I was comfortable with.I tamped down my soul gaze because sharing that much of myself tended to either leave someone a gibbering puddle of goo on the floor, or send them running away screaming.But I’ve learned that I can examine someone’s eyebrows very carefully and keep them safe from the horrors that are Quincy Harker’s soul.“So what brings you out to our little kaffeeklatsch?”she asked, that smile never leaving her face.
I was starting to trust Rachelle less and less the longer she smiled at me.I suppose there are people in the world who are just naturally cheerful and happy, but I don’t run into them often.And their happiness doesn’t usually last much past five minutes into meeting me.“I’m looking for someone, actually,” I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice.
“Oh?”Her eyebrows went up and she leaned back a little.“I’m in a relationship, sorry.But some of the other girls are single?—”
I waved a hand at her, chuckling.“No, not like that.My cousin moved to Pineville about three years ago and told me about this group he met at a bookshop that he really liked.Said they were a lot like our family back home, almost like he’d found his tribe, or his pack.”I put a little weight on the word “pack” to see how it landed.
And land it did.Her eyes went wide, and she looked around quickly, then leaned forward, waving me closer.I leaned in, and she whispered, “We don’t use that word here, and unless you tell me who the fuck you are and what you really want, I’m going to go full tigress and rip your goddamned face off in the middle of this coffee shop.”
“Pretty protective of something that isn’t your pack,” I said, not moving an inch.At least, not above the table.My right hand drifted toward the pistol under my left arm, and my left called power in case I needed to shield.
“Who are you and what do you want?”she repeated.“I won’t ask you again.”
“Technically you just did,” Becks said, pulling out a chair with a loud scrape that put all eyes on us.She reached into her jacket pocket and dropped her credentials on the table.“Rebecca Flynn, Department of Homeland Security.”
“Paranormal Division,” I added, sitting back a little and making sure I could be heard by all the surrounding shifters.It didn’t take much, since all of them had the same heightened senses I did.I could whisper and everyone with a silver allergy would catch every word, while the baristas, clerks, and human shoppers would be none the wiser.“We’re investigating a string of paranormal murders all across Charlotte in the past few months.”
“You’re investigating murders?That’s fucking rich coming from you,” a deep voice said behind me.I glanced over and saw a lean Black man with a neatly trimmed beard sitting in the chair I just vacated.I couldn’t peg what type of were he was, but he had a Northern English accent and the coiled tension of a predator.Maybe some other type of big cat?
“Why’s that?”I asked, keeping my tone and expression neutral.“I’m a DHS contractor here on a case.”
